


Five Times Sam Was A Major Cockblock and One Time He Wasn't

by Janie_17



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Cockblock Sam, Cockblock Sam Winchester, Cockblocking, Eventual Romance, Five And One, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Tension, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie_17/pseuds/Janie_17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like the title says. Lots of tension, soulful looks, and moosus interruptus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Sam Was A Major Cockblock and One Time He Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Josh (quadgod62 on tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Josh+%28quadgod62+on+tumblr%29).



> A/n: So I got the idea to do this from a conversation with a friend, to whom this is dedicated. I changed it a little because I am not very comfortable writing sexy times, so it's just pretty heavily implied sex, not explicit.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural nor its affiliates.
> 
> So, with no further ado:
> 
> "I want it to b one of their little sit-down deep talks, and then the sexual tension keeps building, and after each of them says something, they look at the door, expecting Sam to come in and kill it But he doesn't, so they fuck a bunch"
> 
> or
> 
> Five Times Sam Was A Major Cockblock and One Time He Wasn't

Despite their less than standard upbringing, there was one aspect of life that the Winchesters did the same as everyone else: brotherhood. Because no matter how hard Dean tried, Sam was always in the way; it was sometimes on purpose, but mostly just out of sheer dumb luck. The first time Sam did the worst thing, the first time he interrupted Cas and his brother having a moment (though, metaphorically speaking, as one could argue that killing or any number of things the two hunters do is _actually_ the worst; but that was how Dean felt about it regardless) was shortly after Castiel had once again surprised Dean in a bathroom.

“Hello, Dean,” the angel spoke. Dean jumped at the sound of his voice, cutting his neck with the razor in his hand. 

“Fuck!” He pressed a hand to the cut to stop the bleeding. 

“My apologies,” Cas murmured, healing the cut. “I didn’t mean to catch you unawares, but we need to talk. Do you have a minute?” 

The man wiped the last of the shaving cream off his face, tossing the washcloth into the sink basin. “Sure thing, what’s up?” Leaning against the countertop of the cheap hotel bathroom, Dean crossed his arms across his muscular, and very bare, chest. He couldn’t help but notice how close the angel was standing to him, all but crowding him in the small space. It appeared that Castiel had noticed how close they were as well. 

As the door to the room jerked open, revealing Sam and a pile of notes stacked precariously, resting on one arm, the angel stepped backwards quickly as if he had been electrocuted when the hem of his coat brushed against Dean’s thigh. 

“I think I found something!” Sam exclaimed, eyes flicking over the two of them. “Oh, hey Cas. I didn’t know you were here.” The other two exchanged a soulful gaze that went unnoticed by the younger of the two men in the room as he spread his research across one of the lumpy hotel beds. 

 ~.~.~.~

The next time went a little differently. 

“Dean,” Castiel said imploringly, “this is serious business. It’s no time to be joking around.” 

The man scoffed. “And who says I’m joking, huh, Cas? Because I don’t think this is funny at all. There are lives in danger, but there is also nothing we can do about it until we get a lead on where the hell to find the bastard responsible for this mess.” Dean turned away from the angel, facing the wall. Putting his hands on his hips, he sighed. 

Placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder, the angel replied, “We’ll figure something out.” Dean’s mouth twitched at the angel’s choice of pronoun, nearly forming a small smile. 

“Yeah, we usually do.” He turned around, taking in a sharp breath at the proximity to which they stood. “Cas,” he breathed. 

“Yes, Dean?” As the man opened his mouth to continue the door opened, breaking his concentration. 

Sam’s hulking figure stomped through the doorway, closing the door behind him against the driving rain. Shaking out his hair and removing his dripping raincoat, the tall man sighed. He dropped into the wicker seated chair that sat next to the small breakfast table near the window, kicking his feet up onto the bed. “I didn’t find a single thing that could help us. Not one person in this town even thought they heard something at the time of the latest murder. Not one! It’s like they are bewitched or something.” 

Cas’s eyes wide. “Bewitched! I believe I know where to look next!” Dean had only just begun to inquire what he meant before the angel was gone, having disappeared in search of his epiphany. Dean levelled a glare at his younger brother, ignoring the yelp of protest it brought about. 

~.~.~.~ 

“Dean,” Cas staged whispered across the table, “look at the date on this article.” 

“What did you find?” Dean asked. The volume of their exchange garnered a stern look from the librarian at the desk towards the front of the room. Strange circumstances around the murder of a forty year old man had jogged Dean’s memory of a case his father John had worked years ago. 

Looking troubled the angel stated, “It is exactly fifteen years before our murder case. Even down to the timing of it. The article states that the coroner put time of death between six and eight in the morning, just like Coroner Davis said today.” 

Dean reached over and grabbed the paper. “Let me see that.” He scanned through the words quickly, until coming to a line that made his jaw drop. “They released certain crime scene photos to the public, including a copy of the morgue’s report on the body and trace elements.” Both man and angel were now leaning closer to one another over the table, peering at the page on the table. 

“But that could mean that what we are dealing with now isn’t the same creature or being.” 

Dean nodded in agreement, “It could be a copycat.” He looked up from the paper. Cas’ eyes were now on him, searing into his flesh like fire and lighting a dormant flame in his heart. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. And even if he had, they would have been cut off by the large figure of his brother Sam dashing into the room. 

“I got it! It’s a copycat!” He slapped a file onto the table, making the pair jump. The evidence at the scene was processed and it isn’t the same guy.” 

Before a response could be given the librarian was upon them like a plague. “Out!” She said firmly. “If you cannot be quiet, you cannot be here!” Dean growled in the back of his throat at both his brother’s interruption and the strict enforcement of rules by the woman. 

“Fine, we’re going!” He hastily shoved their things into a rucksack and stalked away, Cas and Sam following behind. 

“What’s got him in a mood?” Sam muttered as they walked out the door. 

~.~.~.~ 

“That’s a bad cut, Dean,” Cas said. The man was lying halfway propped up on a hotel bed, shirt nearly slashed in half, and holding a towel to a large wound on his chest while Sam was out digging in the trunk for the first aid kit. 

“Dammit, Cas. We need to get you a bell or something.” The man swore. 

“Why would I require a bell?” 

Dean rolled his eyes at the look of honest confusion on the angel’s face. “To announce your arrival, that’s why. Would you mind taking care of this?” He gestured to his chest and the deep slash on it. 

“Of course.” Cas walked a few paces to the bed and sat next to the man. He pushed away the bloody t-shirt that still clung to the wound after removing the towel. “Must have been a very sharp blade to leave a wound so clean. And deep,” he commented. His fingers hovered over the area before tapping the man on the forehead. 

“Thanks, man,” Dean said, going to sit up all the way. A hand kept him where he was. The angel was examining the place where the cut had been, running his fingers over the now healed skin. 

“A scythe?” he guessed. The man nodded in affirmation. He felt a stirring in himself, not only his heart, but also other areas this time and didn’t trust himself to speak. Cas laid his hand flat across Dean’s chest, studying his face as if it was the first time he’d ever gazed upon it. “Dean, I—“

But his thought was cut off by none other than Sam Winchester walking in from the outside. “Hey, Cas. Good thing you showed up or Dean woulda bled out while I looked for this stupid kit.” The tall man rattled the first aid kit in his hands. “Thanks for patching him up.” 

“You’re welcome. You know I’d come if it means helping Dean.” He turned his gaze on the man before standing.

 ~.~.~.~

Dean covered his face with his hands, leaning backwards in his chair with a groan. “I’m gonna go blind if I have to keep looking at these stupid papers,” he complained. 

“Yes, but we need to find how to deal with this creature. It has to be in the Men of Letters’ writing; it was in their basement after all.” Cas’s reply was equally frustrated. “It has to be,” he repeated, dropping the file in his hands onto the table in front of him. The other man shook his head. 

“We need a break. I’m gonna go grab a beer. Want one?” 

“Dean, you know I don’t drink.” Taking in the raised eyebrow the man was giving him, Cas added, “I will accompany you to the kitchen.” 

The pair walked in silence down to the kitchen which was in serious need of a facelift. Dean opened the old refrigerator and pulled two bottles of beer from the shelf, handing one to the angel. “Thank you,” Cas said in his gravelly voice. 

Dean studied the other being, eyes roaming over his face deliberately. “So, Cas,” he started. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

“Never mind.” He broke eye-contact, looking down at his shoes. “I changed my mind. It’s nothing.” He shuffled backwards a little to gain some distance between them, as the angel was showing his usual disregard for the Western human concept of personal space. He would have found it amusing that Cas took a step towards him instinctively if not for the burning he felt inside himself. He pretended the sensation was indigestion and took a large swig of his drink. “We should, uh, probably get back to work. Sam should be back soon.” 

Cas didn’t respond immediately, instead stared at the man across from him. The look in his eyes was similar, Dean noted, to the look he had that night in the hotel when he had healed his chest. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. Dean felt the same stirrings he had felt that night begin again. “I’ve been living with and among humans for some time now and was wondering if I had the correct understanding of the term—” 

He was cut off by Sam walking into the kitchen bearing bags of takeout. “Hey, looks like you guys read my mind! I was gonna suggest you take a break from work, then after dinner we can hit the books again.” He appeared to be oblivious to the tension between the other two as he began to unpack the bags. 

 ~.~.~.~

Since their almost-talk the week before Dean had been on pins and needles around the angel, though he wasn’t sure if he was glad or not that they had not been alone in the following days. That was a lie, he was pretty sure he wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t like to admit it for the sake of his own pride. But now here they were, in his bedroom of all places, and he couldn’t avoid the fact any longer that there was certainly something going on between the two of them. 

“…and I know that Sam has discussed this idea with you, but you really need to give it some thought again,” Cas was saying. Dean wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying, something about an idea he shot down. It wasn’t important. The important thing to think about was what the angel had been about to say before in the kitchen. 

“What word did you want to know about?” he blurted out, effectively cutting off the strategy planning that was going on. “The other day in the kitchen, I mean. What was the word?” Cas’s brief confusion was quickly overtaken by a serious expression that furrowed his brow. 

“Love,” he said plainly. Dean took a sharp breath in. He instinctively glanced towards the closed door to ensure they were still alone. “I have read and seen things which suggested that love and sexual gratification are the same thing. However, after my experience with April I’m not so sure of that definition. It did not feel as if I felt something more for her than lust and appreciation for her kindness—though that kindness did end up being a ruse. So I suppose what I am asking is for you to explain the term in your words so that I may compare the two definitions.” 

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I, uh, yeah,” he stammered. “Yeah I can do that.” His eyes flicked to the door again, surprised that Sam hadn’t interrupted yet. It had gotten to be quite predictable that whenever the pair would have a serious moment, the younger man would barge in and the tension would fizzle down enough to keep anything from progressing. “Love is…man,” he closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. “Love is the hardest thing to do and the easiest, all at once. It sneaks up on you and doesn’t make sense. But then when you start thinking about it, it’s like everything aligned in the world just to make it happen. It’s not like in books and movies, though. The person you love doesn’t become all you can think about. They become what you think about in the space between other thoughts. It’s just, it’s tough. And one day it hits you that you love them and it’s all over, you can’t go back.” 

Cas didn’t reply as he followed Dean’s gaze to where it had quickly flicked over the door. Turning his head back he tilted it to the side as he stared at the other man. “Thank you,” he said softly. “That was most informative.” 

“Right, you’re welcome.” Dean couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away again from the angel’s face. If it had been anyone but Cas he would have worried that their staring contest would be too intense, but the angel wasn’t like humans in the way that those sorts of things didn’t bother him. “I’m, uh, glad I could help.” He glanced to the door finally, and thought that it was weird his brother hadn’t interrupted them. He swallowed thickly as Cas suddenly inched closer to him, and he could almost feel his breath on his skin. 

“I’m surprised your brother hasn’t come in yet,” Cas said in a near whisper, his voice rough. “I’m glad he hasn’t.” 

Dean replied by swiftly closing the space between them and kissing him, which drove all thoughts of Sam from either of their minds. One of his hands was on the back of the angel’s neck, as the other gripped the long tan coat that Castiel almost never went without. He hummed in approval as arms wrapped around his body, holding him close. Pulling away briefly he muttered, “Damn, Cas. Why didn’t we do this before?” 

The angel’s brow furrowed. “Is that rhetorical?” Rolling his eyes, Dean fondly told him to shut up, pulling their mouths back together. Castiel allowed his mouth to be ravaged for a while before slipping a hand down to Dean’s waistband. “This isn’t like when I was human,” he said scratchily in the man’s ear, making him shiver. “I can feel every molecule of your being.” His statement was punctuated by sliding his hand into the other man’s trousers, earning a groan in response. 

“That a good thing?” Dean panted, as the hand teased him. 

“Very.” At this the human took control, pulling the angel to the conveniently placed bed. _Seriously_ , he thought, _is this actually happening?_ He pulled off his t-shirt before tearing open the button up Cas wore and pushing it and his jacket off of his shoulders. 

The pair continued to remove clothing slowly, each patch of revealed flesh being traced by fingers, lips, and tongues. Their movements were unhurried. Dean marvelled at the fact that he was there, in the bunker, acting out a fantasy that had recently been completely occupying his mind. Grabbing the bottle of lube from his bedside table, he was about to squeeze it into his hand when it struck him. “I don’t have any condoms,” he said with a frown. 

“Dean, I am an angel of the Lord,” Cas replied. “We don’t get venereal diseases.”

~.~.~.~

Outside the room, Sam stood alone in the hall. His hand had been reaching for the door knob when he heard the moans. At first he thought something was wrong or that Dean was in pain, but the sound of Castiel’s voice from behind the door stopped him. Normally the angel’s presence wouldn’t keep him from entering the room. However, the sounds he heard the longer he stood there did. Backing away, he did his best not to picture his friend and his brother going at it in the other room. With a sigh he decided that his update on their latest case would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first (and probably only) Supernatural fic, so I hope you liked it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading!


End file.
